


In an Octopus' Garden

by faultyfriendofyours



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Drowning, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29016519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faultyfriendofyours/pseuds/faultyfriendofyours
Summary: Tumblr Request: Hi! If you have the time could you write something about Paul being clumsy? I’m not sure why but he strikes as the most accident prone beatlea/n: probably because he puts himself into the most danger kasdkalsdjfhk. also this took a bit of a serious turn. ooops.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	In an Octopus' Garden

Paul huffed with a smile as the summer sun washed him in warmth and the ocean water ignited his back with prickly coolness. Noise was all around him - an almost inevitable reality with John in the mix. Nearby, the girls were laughing and yelping as the sounds of splashing increased.

With a full exhale and the swing of his hands, Paul was completely submerged in water. The endless expanse of blue surrounded him as muffled kicks and disturbances in the water barely reached his ears. He came up for a full breath before going right back under.

Curious of the mysteries of the ocean, he swam deeper and deeper into the beautiful bule before letting himself float back to the top. As he ascended, a strange fish materialized from the depths. He peddled down again to watch it pass only a meter away. It was huge and imposing. Paul had no sense of fear of the thing, though. The bright red of its scales were mesmerizing, glinting in the heavenly glow of penetrating light, but Paul was short on air. He couldn’t stay.

With what little air he had left, he swam towards the many pairs of legs kicking to stay afloat. He almost didn’t make it, barely managing to yank down John’s leg before emerging to hear his scream of fear. Paul heaved in a breath as he broke the surface only to be shoved down again. Laughter and shouts of “You absolute prick!” were dulled.

From the shock of it all, and hilarity, Paul took in a mouth full of water before John could pull him up. He spit out most of it and choked on a stray bit. Bitter salt soaked his tongue as he coughed through laughs. It burned all the way down his lungs but he was too pleased with himself to care.

“Good job, John. You’ve killed him.” Ringo’s light laughter came from somewhere that Paul was unable to see through his stinging eyes.

Once his eyes were cleared and the laughter died down, they all kept at swimming and messing about with intermittent breaks to drink some beer they had stashed along. In all, it was a fun day of swimming and drinking. As the sun kissed the horizon, he, Pattie, and George were left in the water.

“Alright, we’ve got to be in before dark, everyone,” Brian shouted to the stray trio.

Single file, they all boarded the boat. Paul shivered at the sudden assault of cold air smacking into his skin. With the exaggerated chatter of his teeth, he snatched up his terry cloth jacket and a towel that was still warm from its time in the sun. Their driver, or as John had been calling him, Captain Captain Sir checked for all the passengers and revved up the engine. 

As they sped through the water, Paul scooted closer to John to talk. They were practically shouting over the engine. When George switched seats with Cynthia, he began to talk, taking John’s attention. 

Paul couldn’t hear a thing they were saying so he sat and twiddled his thumbs, his eyes wandering to the water. It was aflame with the late evening sun, glints of water were nearly blackened in the contrast. With the rise of his thin brow, an idea pinned to his brain.

With an excited smile curling his lips, he stood and immediately felt the rumble and jolt of the boat as it bobbed through and struck waves. He moved towards Brian and motioned for him to scoot over. He smiled in return and moved, probably expecting Paul to sit down.

Instead, he stood up on the seat, taking hold of the pole supporting the metal roof of the boat. Shouts were coming from behind him but he only smiled more, stepping up on the ledge, holding the rail with a single hand.

God, was the view beautiful. The flaming sea and black outline of the shore were striking. He twisted around to flash a bright smile at John. But John didn’t smile back. On the contrary, he was leaning forward in his seat, hand outstretched. 

Paul could just barely read the words leaving his lips. “Paul, come on! Come here!”

But he wasn’t deterred, laughing with his full belly. He felt as though he was surfing as they hit more waves over the choppy water. He never wanted to come down and resolved to stay there as long as he could stand it. It was all fun for him until the boat rocked up, actually leaving the water for a moment, and slammed down with a force Paul could have never prepared for.

He went airborne and tumbled through the refrain. Panic and terror burst and smashed through his core but he did not scream. Through his haze of terror, he was still conscious of the fact that he would hit the water. So he held in the deepest breath he could manage before his back slammed into the ocean. He tumbled through the depths and spun around uncontrollably.

Heart pounding and skin searing from impact, he was completely lost. Nothing made sense in the pitch black of the sea that roared in his ears. Up and down didn’t exist. He was forced to just pick a direction to swim and hope for the best.

His best was not good enough. 

His heartbeat synced with the painful pulse of his skin and he felt about to suffocate. 

He pleaded with his body to calm down, for his heart to stop pounding. 

Against every wish in his brain, he tried to breathe.

Whatever he thought the burn of saltwater felt like earlier was coming in tenfold, attacking his nostrils, lungs, and throat. To worsen the already dire situation, wooziness swept over him, mingling alongside his pounding heart like an old friend.

As his body was about to force him into the fatality of an underwater coughing fit, he breached the surface, cold wind whipping his face as he swung his arms futilely. The struggle to stay afloat was almost impossible. He coughed up water only to fall back under and get more caught in his throat.

The torturous cycle was bringing in numbness that made his attempts seem stupid and useless. The poisonous thought tugged at his brain as the orange and red world blued into darkness. His senses were numbing, replaced with only a faint roar in his ears.

His head dipped under the water and the sudden realization of his foot going through Death's threshold jolted his adrenaline into full gear. Fighting the water was harder than ever but he surfaced nonetheless, his eyes shooting open to see the boat right in front of him. Even with the sight of salvation, his tired arms sunk him into the depths.

Two distinct splashes echoed to him. He looked around with wild eyes, hands raised and swinging in hopes of making him easier to find. No cool air hit his fingers and he knew, with a heavy heart, his hands weren’t clearing the water.

He still looked hopefully above but the ever-darkening water made it impossible to see. When he was at his optimism’s end, he thought of taking in a huge breath- just to make it quick. Warmth enveloped his fingers just as the thought found its groundings. 

Too little, too late. The breath was taken.

He was dragged up, greeted by air that his lungs would not accept. Voices were pleading words his ears could not properly interpret. He felt conscious but could not move or speak. His lungs were heavy with water. The haze lifted just enough that his eyes opened. John and George were pulling him through the water. Ringo and Brian were lifting him into the boat. 

His heavy eyes closed again only to shoot open with a body wracking spasm. The water made its return on his tongue and he heaved his body to the side to let it spill out. Bitter acid and salt somehow felt like a relief. Hands were on his body, holding his back as he coughed more. When he fell onto his back once again, the hands moved to cup his face.

He blinked the fog from his eyes to find John was the one holding him. George was in his blurred peripheral, calling for everyone to get back before he joined John. 

“His eyes are drifting around all funny.” George’s brows were knitted together with concern and confusion.

“You’d be a little funny if you nearly drowned,” Paul said with a weak voice. The act caused more pain to strike his system but he ignored it the best he could and pulled on a smile.

A better sense of clarity bloomed as he was yanked into a forceful hug. His eyes opened wide from the impact before he settled into John’s embrace.

“Don’t ever do that again, you bastard!”

He coughed into John’s shoulder and John pulled him back, fear draining his face pale. 

He was still holding Paul up but kept him at a distance. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry. I-”

“‘S fine,” he said with a little more life.

“Lay the boy up on the bench. We need to get him out of the cold,” Captain Captain Sir instructed.

George and John lifted him up as he protested and claimed he could stand on his own. He was promptly ignored and placed on the plastic cushions. Once covered in towels and jackets, the boat roared to life once again. George and Ringo sat on the floor beside him, -George going as far as to hold his hand- and just beside his head sat John, petting back his wet hair.

A sense of safety and security eased his aching body.


End file.
